


To Ride And To See

by Amagifu



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fourth Age, Gen, Rhovanion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amagifu/pseuds/Amagifu
Summary: After the War of the Ring, the Lord of the Mark takes a journey to find some answers.





	To Ride And To See

The late morning sun warmed the backs of the group of Riders as they gave their horses a chance to cool down from the fast pace set earlier.

“Leikr?”

“Aye, Lord, I will scout ahead.”

As the Eyes of the éored spurred his mount into a lazy canter, Éomer and the others continued at a walk.

Sefi, the youngest in the group escorting their First Marshal, gazed about him in wonder mingled with homesickness. “I begin to understand why Eorl led our fathers south. This land seems not nearly as rich as in the Mark.”

“Not as rich in the things we desire, true, though others may see such differently.”

As the Riders crested yet another rise, Sefi cocked his head and mused, “I thought this area was bereft of tall mountains?”

Éomer nodded. “Mostly. This land rolls similar to home. But, I miss the waves of green. As fond as I am of seeing the White Mountains frame the sky, and as thankful as I am for rock-hewn places such as Helm’s Deep, I have always preferred grasslands to hilly terrain.”

“Then what is that peak in the distance?”

Surprised, Éomer reined in his mount, his gaze deepening as he followed Sefi’s gesture northward. After a long moment, he murmured, “That must be it.”

“What is it? That mountain?”

“The Lonely Mountain. Which means that if we look east, we might catch a glimpse of the Iron Hills.”

Sefi nudged his horse to turn about and join Éomer’s in a quick moment of grazing. He glanced sidelong at his liege lord. “Wait, I have heard of those Hills. Those are dwarvish lands, are they not?”

“Aye. As is the Lonely Mountain. It surveyed above the trees of our ancestral lands, long before Eorl led our people south.”

“But why do we make for such a place?”

Despite himself, Éomer grinned at the Rider’s slip of nervousness. He nudged his horse into motion again, his escort following suit. “Are you worried about encountering dwarves? They are not all as our tales would paint them. You recall Gimli? He puts many of those rumors to lie. And, his kin reside here, at the Mountain and in the Hills.”

After a while, Leikr returned, his expression calm. “Lord, all is quiet, though there is stale evidence of much activity passing through these lands.”

Sefi mulled on those words as he resumed looking about him. “Rumor is that the War reached even this far north.”

Éomer nodded slowly, pointing out tracks of many feet trampling the ground to their right. “Not merely rumor. Aragorn confirmed it, and from what I hear it drew Men and Dwarves to fight together. Their combined victory apparently was bittersweet for both groups; two kings fell in battle that day.” He paused and breathed deep, seeing Théoden in his mind’s eye and feeling a pang still in his heart. “Had they not been successful, though, in thwarting the Enemy’s progress up here, our own efforts on the Pelennor might have taken a very different turn.”

As the group continued on, contemplating the extent of what the Enemy had attempted with armed force, the Lord of the Mark shook himself clear of the image of his uncle. “I hope to speak with Gimli, if Bema favors our paths crossing.”

Leikr glanced back as he rode ahead of the group. “He has not yet returned to Helm’s Deep?”

“Not yet, from what the Westmarch scouts report. His last contact with me was on he journey home to bring the news of his fortune in the War to his kindred and to seek a boon to return with some of his folk to the caves beneath the Deep.”

Sefi shook his head slightly in bewilderment. “How do you know so much about the affairs of the children of Aulë?”

Éomer snorted in amusement, his gaze growing distant with more memory. “I was gifted an extensive session in dwarvish gossip and family trees one evening in Meduseld. Paying a debt owed to my fiery-haired friend.”

Leikr jibed, “At least it did not involve lessons in courtesy and a dwarvish axe.”

Éomer’s eyes narrowed at his lead Rider, but before he could retort Sefi blurted, “So we make for that Mountain?”

His gaze never leaving Leikr as the Rider dropped back to join them, he answered, “Close to it. I am told that Men dwell in a city near the base of the Mountain, and that is where we will go.”

With a bland expression, Leikr shrugged at Sefi and added, “Likely our liege needs more time to consider the latest missive from Dol Amroth. Imrahil is apparently persuasive when presenting his assets.”

Seki started to grin in reply but stifled it as Éomer glared at them both. His jaw clenched. “Trade negations. Nothing. More. Than. That.”

Leikr spread his hands in a placating gesture, not wishing to push too hard on what had become a frustrating wrinkle for their First Marshal’s role as King. “Of course, Lord.” Sefi quickly echoed the sentiment.

Éomer was only partially mollified, but he let the matter fall silent as the éored continued riding north.


End file.
